


Skeleton Vs. Ghost

by epkitty



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween at Xavier's school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skeleton Vs. Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I like to pair this story with the poem "No More Ghosts" by Robert Graves.
> 
> Yeah, um, so, this story is kind of ridiculous.

The Institute wasn’t all that big on holidays. Though many of the students remained there throughout the school year, they were of such varied religions and cultures that no holiday was stressed over any other. But they were nearly all Americans, and no child of any age could deny the magic and candy of Halloween.

“Ghosts.”

“Skeletons.”

“Logan, I’ve been doing this for years; you can’t just—”

“Bub!” Logan interrupted, “Just what is it about ghosts d’you think is so damn scary?”

Scott stifled a laugh and asked, “And skeletons have that _je ne sais quoi_?”

“Say what?”

“Right.”

“Skeletons are freaking kick-ass!” Logan said, thrusting the store-bought cardboard cutout at his nemesis. “I say skeletons!”

“I have the authority here,” Scott said, stepping into the bigger mutant’s space and glaring through his opaque red lenses. “Ghosts.”

“Skeletons.”

Scott deigned to glance at the toothy, cardboard grin. He raised a brow, pushed out his chin, and said, “We’ll see about that.”

= = = = =

Logan was up at seven a.m. He shrugged into jeans, boots, and t-shirt and then fell to his knees to drag the two gigantic shopping bags out from under the bed. These he flung over his shoulder like a mercenary Santa Claus and drew open the door.

“Fuck.”

Plastered to his door was a herd of white ghosts cut from hefty bags and construction paper sadly booing him from between fake cobwebs and plastic spiders. “Oh, you’re gonna get it, pal,” Logan snarled, ripping down the decorations before taping up his own dancing crew of grim skeletons from Wal-Mart.

On his way through the halls, he put up the skeletons: on doors and windows and capering through the corridors. As he went, he ripped down the ghostly decorations with a rage normally reserved for more animate foes.

In the science lab, he requisitioned the life-size model skeleton and relocated it to the lobby along with a top hat, cane, fake blood, and army of stuffed rats.

(Not real ones.)

“What are you doing?”

From atop a sturdy, fiberglass ladder, Logan looked down and grimaced around the tape dispenser between his teeth. “’Uht’s ih ‘ook ‘ike?”

Scott shook his head with derision. “You are going down.”

“Big words,” Logan told him, spitting the dispenser out so it bounced off Scott’s head. Bull’s eye. “Eat my dust, One-Eye.”

Scott scowled up and then lashed out with a harsh kick to the ladder.

After the ensuing crash, bounteous swearing, and drawn-out chase, both were harshly reprimanded and sent to bed without supper.

= = = = =

Scott was up at five a.m. His silent trek through the halls was broken only by the sounds of tearing paper and the rrrriiiiiiiiip of Scotch tape being pulled from its plastic roll. Stealthily, he redecorated Logan’s door and stripped the prancing skeleton parade from the walls.

Up went the handmade ghosts, ghosts of tissue paper with watercolor eyes, ghosts of shredded sheets, ghosts of gauze and rippling faux silk. Up went the stretched cobwebs and creeping, black spiders.

He nodded with satisfaction as the first students rolled out of bed and wandered the halls, bickering over the bathrooms and grumbling about breakfast.

One shrieked as she walked into a generous stretch of the fake spider web, and Scott skulked out of sight.

= = = = =

Students pretended to take sides throughout the day.

Encountering Logan, Kitty would say, “Awesome skeletons, Sir! Keep up the great work!”

Encountering Scott, Bobby would say, “The ghosts are way better, Prof! Maybe I can give you a hand later?”

Encountering Scott, Kitty would say, “Hey Teach, cool ghosts! The skeletons are totally lame… See ya at class!”

Encountering Logan, Bobby would say, “Hiya Wolfman. Love the skeletons; great job with the Halloween stuff!”

Each in his own turn gained confidence, and tripped the other in the hallways.  
 This resulted in another talk from Xavier about proper behavior, respect, and setting examples. And while he did not make them shake hands, both were again sent to bed without supper.

= = = = =

As Logan draped black plastic skeleton garlands over the classroom doors, Scott stood next to him, slapping ghostly decals up on the walls.

Scott’s frown crowned the bruise on his jaw as he exchanged glares with the mutant who showed no sign of their scuffles. “So, Caveman,” Scott grumped, “What are you going as for Halloween?”

For a bare moment, a pure grin broke through the enmity scrawled across Logan’s face. “A biker dude with a bad attitude.”

“And how’s that any different from your usual get-up?”

“Exactly,” Logan growled with a hungry leer. “And: it rhymes.”

“Dude. You’re creeping me out.”

Faking a snapping bite, Logan lunged forward.

Though his attacker was nowhere near making contact, in an effort to dodge him, Scott toppled over backward, landing with a thud on his ass.

Logan laughed uproariously until Scott zapped him with a blast from his visor.

= = = = =

Xavier glared at them across the desk. “I don’t know that I’ve ever beheld grown men behaving in such a puerile fashion,” he marveled with an ounce of disapproval for every pound of radiating hostility from the men. “At this point I have no choice but to ban both of you from putting up _any_ decorations.

“No!”

“But sir!”

“The Halloween Party!” they exclaimed together.

Xavier threw up his hands in exasperation. “I have no other choice, gentlemen. Had students showcased such outrageous behavior, disciplinary actions would long have ceased this squabbling.”

Both mutants sputtered at his choice of words.

“I am sorely disappointed that the two of you have not resolved this. I don’t care what it’s about; you are in a school. You are two men in a position of authority in a very important school who have demonstrated not respectful consideration for each other but the opposite. Feelings I let go, but violent actions demand reparation. You cease your holiday activities at once, along with this brawling, or you both will be turned out of this Institution.”

The severe gaze struck both of them, and Logan and Scott had no response. The threat was honest and just. They nodded their heads, Scott murmured an apology, and Xavier dismissed them bare moments before calling them back. “Oh, and might I add: you should consider very carefully your choice to attend the Halloween Party at all.” The threat rung in their ears and corresponding shoulders slumped in defeat. As they left the room, Xavier’s mutter followed them: “There will be enough hormones to go around without the pair of you.”

= = = = =

Throughout his classes, Scott checked his watch so often it seemed he was suffering a minor bout of Tourette’s.

Logan spent the day chopping firewood for the bonfire. Despite the autumn chill, he stripped down to his undershirt and the sweat cooled his heating skin as the woodchips flew. He dragged whole logs to the readied pit.

“Are you my watchdog?” he asked.

Aurora had seated herself on one of the benches. She smiled prettily and watched Logan lean another log into the teepee-like pile of wood he’d already prepared. “I’m just between classes,” she told him. “How’s the fire pit coming along?”

Logan stepped back, wiped the sweat from his eyes, and chuffed out a heavy breath. “Near done.”

She nodded slowly, examining him.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Do I really have to say anything, Logan?”

“No. I got the speech.”

“Then you know better than to start anything at the party.”

As a guilty schoolchild drags his toe in the dirt, Logan hung his scruffy head and nodded. “I know.”

“All right then.”

“So Stormy,” he said as she stood to depart. “What sort of get-up you got for tonight?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I was hoping for a skintight number, leather, plenty of skin.”

She drew her eyebrows together questioningly. “Isn’t that more _your_ style?” she asked, deadpan.

His growl followed her all the way up to the house.

= = = = =

As Scott dismissed his last class, he turned to his visitor. “Jean,” he said with relief, holding out his arms for an embrace.

She raised a red eyebrow and the corners of her pretty mouth turned down. “Is it true what I’ve heard about you and Logan?”

“…huh?”

“Are you _still_ fighting?”

“Well…”

“You are such a man,” she accused with a shake of her red head. “I’m going to give it to you straight: pull any crap tonight, and Xavier will make good on his promise.”

“Sounded more like a threat to me,” Scott muttered in the direction of the floor.

“Threat’s a good word, too,” she agreed, striding across the garage. “I don’t know what’s going on between you, but if it doesn’t stop, Xavier won’t need to throw you out, because once I’m through with you, there won’t be anything left.”

He could only blink at the fire in her eyes and stare agape.

“You’re in a _school_ , Scott,” she accused, severe disappointment replacing the anger. “Get it together or get out.”

= = = = =

Before the party, Logan and Scott each headed toward the mess hall to check out the progress. The meeting was unintentional, but once they joined paths, each refused to back down and in silence they prowled side-by-side down the halls, now decorated with bats. Black bats, brown bats, orange bats, and purple bats. Bats that hung upside down and bats that flew, cardboard bats and plastic bats, and bats on wires. Bats that chirped and bats that flapped, and bats that laughed maniacally as they passed by.

Logan finally broke the silence with a curt growl, “Bats.”

“I hate bats,” Scott shuddered.

They walked faster.

Together, they pushed open the double doors and stepped into the vast hall strung with black crepe. Again the bats proliferated, hung from the ceiling and plastering the walls.

“Marie??” they asked in unison, halting in their tracks.

Each atop her own ladder, Marie and Kitty held up a long string of construction paper bats. “Aren’t they cute?” Marie said, her gloved fingers delicately pinching the wing as Bobby passed up the pushpins. “Kitty and Bobby helped a lot,” she informed them, leaning up to pin one end of the cutouts to a ceiling beam.

“Traitors,” Scott harrumphed before turning on his heel.

Logan followed not long after.

= = = = =

“Hey! Too close!” Logan yelled for what felt like the hundredth time since the fire was lit.

The boy grinned as Logan leapt forward to grab him back. The boy stuck his hand into the fire and pulled back a glowing ball of flame.

“Oh,” Logan said, coming to a standstill. “Be, uh… be careful with that,” he said with a gruff nod, waving him away. Turning his head, he yelled again, “Hey you! Too close!”

Scott sat with Aurora on one of the further benches. In a filmy, diaphanous dress, Aurora held out her bag of popcorn. Scott grinned and snagged a handful, wary of dripping butter or salt on the tux. “You’re right. This is entertainment,” he told her.

“Thanks.”

They watched the bonfire.

“Too close! Three steps back! Now!”

Logan stalked the fire’s perimeter until one of the older kids stepped in to relieve him. “Take a break, Wolverine,” he said.

Logan circumvented the crowd with ease, coming up silently on his prey. “What’s so funny, Princess?”

Aurora shot up like a jack-in-the-box, grinning wildly. “See ya, Scott,” she said too loudly before spinning in a whirl and disappearing into the crowd.

Logan looked down with disdain. “What are you, a monkey?”

Scott looked up. “No. I’m some guy in a tuxedo.”

Logan almost grinned. He slumped onto the bench and furtively handed over a cold beer.

Scott looked down in surprise. “What’s this, a truce?” he asked. But he took the beer.

Logan shrugged and together they drank the cold, fizzing alcohol.

“Happy Halloween,” Logan grumbled.

Scott stared at him. “I don’t get it. I get kicked out, I leave behind my home. My family. You get kicked out…” He shook his head and accused, “You wanted to take off anyway.”

Logan’s dark eyes reflected the jumping fire. He mumbled, “Yeah. But then, I could come back. If’n I wanted.”

Scott stared at the tough profile. “Logan. You ever had a place… to go back to?”

Logan’s intense gaze shifted downward and he answered with an abrupt, singular shake of his head.

To this admission, Scott had no response. He, too, watched the fire and listened to the kids.

“Happy Halloween!” a young bright face announced, holding out a candied apple. “Margot ruined half the batch, so you’ll have to share.”

“Thanks,” Logan grumbled, taking the stick.

“Thanks, Heather,” Scott said somewhat more enthusiastically. “We’ll do that.”

With a nod, the girl bounced off with her tub of caramel apples.

Logan took a bite. He nodded. “S’good.” He carefully passed the stick to Scott, who gingerly accepted it.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s good.”

= = = = =

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never tried to write this fandom before, although I’ve read it and particularly enjoy this pairing. I knew that I generally lean toward capslock-worthy angst in my stories, and I wanted something more light-hearted with elements of whimsy. I don’t know how well it worked. In my proof-reading there were times when I thought it too corny and others when I found it entertaining, so maybe you just need to be in the right mood.
> 
> I don’t recall having a plan for this story, or any idea what would happen at the end; it just came together in its own fashion, and works well enough for my purposes here.
> 
> Having only passing familiarity with the characters through the movies, that’s all my interpretations are based on; I understand there must be a wealth of more in-depth information in the comics.


End file.
